Neurotypical
by SJO
Summary: Gary is suddenly terrified and acting strangely, and then someone comes looking for him. As the team learn more about this stranger, a dark part of Gary's past is uncovered. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

Neurotypical

An _Alphas _fanfic by SJO

Note: _Alphas _is (or was) the property of Syfy Channel, not me. This takes place sometime during the first season after "Rosetta." I actually had this idea since season one, but I haven't shared it because I thought maybe the show might have it's own version, but obviously, that's not gonna happen.

Nina groaned loudly and slammed her laptop. "Stupid wireless!" she yelled.

"Don't blame the network!" an annoyed voice said outside.

She looked out the door and saw her young colleague pacing in the hall. "Oh, Gary. I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, Mom just dropped me off," he answered. "You're not anywhere the signal."

"Well, my laptop is on my desk where it's always been, and it's picked it up fine before."

Gary went into her office and saw a fading blue and white streak of light on the far edge of the room. "Well, it's weak, and it's on the other side of the room. You gotta move your desk over there."

"Gary, I'm not gonna-"

"Or get Bill to move it. He's strong."

"I'm not moving my desk. Luckily, this is a laptop. I can take it wherever I want." So she took her laptop, sat on the other side of the room, and tried to connect again. "Oh, come on!" Then she got an idea and looked up. "Hey Gary, could you maybe pull the signal over here?"

"That's not how it works. I'm not an antenna. But I can find whatever you want."

"I'm trying to get on Facebook, Gary."

"Well, I can read your newsfeed. Is that what you want?"

"No, I just wanna get on myself, and I don't have a lot of time."

Gary wandered out and then wandered back in. "The signal's better in Rachel's office."

"OK, thank you." She got up and went next door. "Hey, Rach, can I use your office for a little bit?"

"Uh, I guess so," Rachel said uncertainly. She figured it was the most she could do since Nina was letting her stay at her apartment.

So Nina brought her laptop in, sat down in a chair, and pulled up Facebook. "Yes!" Then she clicked on the Games sidebar and brought up—

"Farmville?" Gary was looking over her shoulder. "This is the big computer emergency, Farmville?"

"Hey, if I don't harvest these crops within the hour, they'll die. I've worked too hard for that."

"Nina, I had no idea you were a gamer," Rachel giggled.

Nina laughed nervously. "I'm not a gamer! I just started playing this game one day when I was bored, and I got hooked. It's kinda a high-maintenance game. It's not really all that fun unless you have a lot of friends playing with you. Sometimes I wish I could push people online."

"I need to get in on that game. I've always wanted to indulge of the joys of a simple farm life without all the horrid smells of animals and loud noises of machinery."

"I've been on a real farm," Gary interrupted.

The girls turned to Gary, now leaning back in a chair as he said this, surprised that he took the conversation in this direction. "Uh, really?" Nina said.

"Yeah. I went to Nebraska one summer when I was a kid. My aunt and uncle have a farm there. They raise corn."

"What was it like, Gary?" Rachel asked.

"It was very smelly, but besides that I liked it. There were no lights, no buzzing, no voices. I woke every day with the rooster's crow at sunrise, but it was still the most sleep I've ever gotten before Dr. Rosen helped me."

"That's because there wasn't a lot of electricity there, isn't it?"

"Yeah, they just had a phone. No computer, no TV, no radio. Uncle Rocky said there was too much work to be done to mess with them. I didn't wanna leave, but my dad made me."

"Your dad?" Nina asked. "I don't think I've seen him. I've only seen your mother."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Awe, is it bad, Buddy? Did he divorce? Is he still-?"

"He's in jail!" Gary said rather suddenly. "He's a bad man. He did something bad, and now he's in jail."

"Hey!" Hicks was walking past the room, and he stopped in the doorway. "That's not always true, Gary. I know some people in jail; they're friends."

"They're bad friends. You shouldn't be friends with them."

"People in jail aren't always bad people. Some just made big mistakes, but they don't-"

"Good people do good things. Bad people do bad things. I saw it in a movie. You don't get in jail for doing good things."

"It's his father," Rachel told Hicks quietly. "It's probably pretty messy." Hicks looked like he was about to say something else when Bill interrupted them.

"Well, you can continue this argument later. Rosen says we have a case."

They got into their van and raced downtown to an apartment fire. Rachel turned green right as they pulled up. "Oh, I hate fires! It's the only thing I know of that assaults every single one of my senses."

"You can just stay in the van, then, Rachel," Dr. Rosen said. "All I need you to do is listen for vital signs."

"I don't get it, Lee," Bill said. "The fire department is here, and they look like they got everything under control."

"According to Agent Sullivan, someone with Red Flag connections was spotted around this area just before the apartment went up in flames. She fears someone living here was targeted by Red Flag, and we have to find out who."

"How are we gonna do that?" Hicks asked.

"Well, we'll start by making sure everyone gets out safely. That's where you and Bill come in. You go through there and rescue anyone the firefighters missed. Rachel, you guide them. Gary, I want you to check the security camera feeds surrounding the area, make sure you see who gets out. And Nina, I need you to use your abilties to calm people down, and I'll help you."

"Hey, we aren't fireproof, Doc," Bill argued.

"Sullivan sent us some equipment to help with that. It's not much, though. Just go as fast as you can."

So everybody got to their tasks. Rachel moved to the front of the van to get a closer reading. Gary stayed in the back. He found a security camera pointed toward the back entrance. A stream of people were filing out, mostly families. There were so many, it was somewhat overwhelming for him. He switched to another camera by the side entrance. People were running out of it, panicked. That wasn't much better. He switched to a camera in an adjacent parking garage, and suddenly his heart jumped in his throat. He saw a man. It was hard to tell much about his features in the black and white film, but Gary knew his face.

"No," he whispered.

"What is it, Gary?" Rachel asked.

"No," he said a little louder. "It can't be. It's impossible." He got out of the van, took a deep breath of fresh air. He started pacing, mumbling, "It's impossible. It couldn't have been him. It was just someone who looked like him," and other reassuring statements. He forgot about his job and fixated on what he saw. He checked the camera again and saw no one. "Maybe it was just my imagination," he said to himself. He just wanted to sit down and rock or flap his hands, anything to shake off this feeling of dread.

The fire was starting to die down. Gary checked the camera ten times, but he didn't see the man again. "Maybe he got away," he thought aloud. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought the danger was past. He assured himself he was mistaken, and even if he wasn't, his friends would protect him.

Then, he saw him again.

He was in the middle of the crowd of survivors, standing with a motorcycle helmet under his arm. He was looking at the fire, but then his eyes locked onto Gary. Familiarity crossed his face. He even started to walk toward Gary. Gary went pale, and he could hear his heart in his ears. He started hyperventilating, and he felt himself go dizzy.

"Gary!" a voice called in the distance.

"No!" he said turning away.

But then he felt a hand on his elbow. "Gary?" It was Dr. Rosen. "What are you doing out here? Are you all right?"

Gary looked at him. "Dr. Rosen, are we almost done?"

"Well, I think we're just about done, yes. What did you-?"

Gary ran back to the van and slammed the door. "Rachel, is there anybody else in there?"

She closed her eyes. "I don't hear any more heartbeats."

"Good! We gotta get outta here." He moved back and hid his face with his jacket.

"When?"

"Now! Come on, Rachel, tell everyone to hurry!"

She got on the radio and said, "Uh, Gary's pretty intent on leaving. I don't really know why, but if you're done, please get down here."

"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on," Gary kept saying over and over. Even when everybody got into the van, he kept saying it. "CAN'T WE GO ANY FASTER!" he finally screamed.

"We're going the speed limit, Gary," Bill called back. "In case you haven't noticed, we don't have a siren on this vehicle.

"What's the matter, Gary, you have to pee?" Nina smirked.

"No! It's just . . . I need to get something in my office!" It was the best excuse he could think of.

"And why do you have your face down in your jacket like that? What are you hiding from, the paparrazi?"

"I'm . . . I'm cold."

"Why don't you tell us what's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"NOTHING'S WRONG!"

"Yes, there is. Your heart is beating like mad, and," she sniffed, "you smell like Bill."

"No, no I don't."

"You do, Gary. You're sweating, and there's adrenaline mixed in your sweat."

He couldn't think of any other excuses. "I don't wanna talk about it! Leave me alone!"

"Alright, that's enough," Dr. Rosen said. "Let's give Gary some space. He'll talk to us when he's ready."

Once they got to the office, Gary threw open the door to the van, ran out as fast as he could, and did not stop running until he got into his office. Then he shut the door, sat in a chair, curled his knees up to his chest, and started rocking and moaning.

The others were talking to each other about what was going on with Gary and how to help. Dr. Rosen went back to his office to file a report about their case, and Rachel went to her office to get some calming aroma therapy candles. Just after she left, the elevator dinged, and someone carrying a motorcycle helmet got off.

"Excuse me?" the man asked in a deep but still somewhat meek voice.

Bill turned around. "I'm sorry, sir, this area is classified."

"I understand. I won't be here long, sir. I'm looking for someone, and I just want to talk to him for ten minutes. He's got . . . black hair, blue eyes, about yea tall, skinny—his name's Gary Bell?"

"Sir, I'm afraid I can't confirm nor deny—"

Suddenly the man's tone changed as he glared and pointed threateningly at Bill. "Don't give me that! Don't even-!" He swallowed and tried to contain himself. "I saw him, and I followed you. I know he's here."

Bill looked like he might throw the guy out, but then Nina touched his arm. "It's OK, Bill, I got this." She got in between him and the man and looked into the man's eyes. "Don't you realize how late it is? You're missing your dentist appointment. Just look at your watch."

The man slowly gazed down at his wrist. "I don't have time," he said softly.

"That's right. You should get on your motorcycle and drive to your dentist office as fast as you can. Maybe you'll make it."

"I don't have time," he repeated.

Something wasn't right. "Why are you still standing here?"

He looked up. "I don't . . . have . . . TIME!" Before she knew it, the man pushed Nina out of the way and ran past her. Bill tried to stop him, but he was going too fast. The man then opened a door and looked in. "Gary?" He shook his head and shut it. He opened another door. "Gary!" Not that one either. He opened another. "Gary?"

"DCIS!" Gary showed him his badge. "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! I _WILL _HAVE YOU ARRESTED!"

The man stood in the doorway and smiled. "Nice to see you too, Son."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, how long has it been?" the man asked.

Gary looked down and refused to answer.

"Twenty years? Twenty-five?"

"Fifteen," he finally said.

"Just fifteen? Man. It feels so much longer, like an eternity really. I mean, just look at you. You're a man now. You look-"

"Why aren't you in jail?"

"Gary, that's not polite."

"But you're supposed to be in jail!"

The man sighed. "I only got ten years. I got out in five."

"You escaped in five years?"

"No, parole, good behavior."

"I don't believe you."

"Gary, I'm not a bad guy."

"I don't believe you!"

Meanwhile, Bill got Dr. Rosen out of his office. "He just came in, demanding to see Gary. I tried to send him out. Nina even tried pushing him, but he forced his way in." They joined the rest of the group that was stading outside the office and watching through the window.

"Oh no," Dr. Rosen gasped. "I can't believe it. I haven't seen him since '96."

"You know him?" Rachel asked.

He nodded. "That's Alex Bell, Gary's father."

"Oh, he was telling us about his father this morning. He said he was in jail."

"I know. I helped testify. This could be bad."

"What should we do?" Hicks asked.

"Bill, send Gary a text message that we are watching and we'll make sure he won't hurt him."

Bill did just that. Gary saw the message appear in the air to his left. He raised his head and turned.

"What are you looking at?" the man asked. Gary didn't answer and touched it to make it disappear. "Son? Are you still here?" Gary started to scan through his messages, just trying to get his mind off the terror. "Graham! What are you doing? Quiet hands!"

Gary looked at him furiously. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! And don't tell me what to do! They're my hands; I do what I want with them!"

"Alright, sorry!" He didn't look like he meant it, so Gary just looked away. "Do you still see them? The lights?"

"Yes," Gary answered with a huff.

"And do you hear the noises?"

"Yes. I always will."

"Have you ever been able to sleep with them?"

"Do you think I'd be alive if I couldn't? I got help."

"Did you? I'm glad. Can I come closer? I swear I won't touch you."

Gary didn't want him to, but then he thought about the text message and the promise that everyone was watching, and he silently nodded. Alex approached him slowly then fell to his knees as he came to Gary so that he could be at eye level. "Oh, you still look so young, just like you did when you were little." Gary averted his gaze. "No, look at me, Gary. Let me see your eyes. You have your mother's beautiful eyes." Gary still didn't turn to him. "Son, let me look at you, please. I missed you."

"No," Gary moaned.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not lying. I missed you."

"Don't lie!"

"I missed you, Gary! I love you."

"STOP LYING!" He finally did look at him with fierce anger. "If you missed me, you would've looked for me. If you love me, you . . . you wouldn't have left."

"Believe me, Gary, I did it because I thought it was the best thing for you. I did it because I love you."

"NO!" He raised his hand, which touched some kind of signal, and suddenly a small jolt of electricity jumped out of his hand and hit his father in the chest. It was just enough to surprise both of them. Alex looked at him in pain and fear. Gary couldn't believe he just did that, but then he hid his amazement from his father, and he glared at him again. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T EVER COME BACK!"

Alex started backing away, still keeping his eyes on his son. As he came closer to the door, Dr. Rosen spoke up. "Mr. Bell?"

Alex turned around and saw him, and he frowned. "You! I remember you."

"Yes, as I do you."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to suggest that we talk for a bit. I have some things to tell you about your son." Alex stared at him as he thought about the suggestion.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group gathered into Gary's office. Rachel started lighting candles, and the others started comforting him. "How you doing, buddy?" Bill asked.

Gary still turned away, refusing to respond to anyone, until Nina leaned over and asked him, "Gary, are you OK?"

He looked up at her furiously. "Why didn't you push him? Why didn't you make him leave?"

Nina answered him very gently. "I tried, Gary, I really did, but something happened. I don't know, it's like an override. It might be that he just can't be pushed like you, but I think, I think his will was just too strong. That happens sometimes, if someone wants something badly enough. I think he really, really wanted to see you. Gary, I think he—"

"Don't say he loves me! He doesn't. I'm not the son he wanted."

"How do you know that, Gary?" Hicks asked.

"BECAUSE HE TRIED TO KILL ME!"

The others looked at him in shock. Gary buried his head in his hands and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The others stared at Gary as he continued to cry, not knowing what to say or what to do. Nina reached out to rub his shoulder, but then she remembered how he didn't liked to be touched. So she just looked at him and said quietly, "Do you want to be left alone, Gary?" He didn't answer. So she looked up at the group. "Maybe we should go."

"No, I think we should talk about this," Hicks said.

"You heard what Dr. Rosen said," Rachel told him. "He'll tell us when he's ready."

So they started to get up. "Hey, we're here when you need us, buddy," Bill said. "Just say the word."

But as they started to leave, Gary started to straighten up. "No. I should tell you. Now that he's here, you should know." So they sat back down. Gary was still plainly sad, and he delivered his story while looking down at the floor. "It all started when I was about five or six years old. That's when I saw all of the lights."

* * *

"So, you're his shrink now?" Alex asked as he looked at the diplomas over Dr. Rosen's desk.

"I'm a neuroscientist, Mr. Bell, not a psychologist," Dr. Rosen answered, gently but still with a tone indicating that he took a little offense.

"What's the difference?"

"I'm more concerned with the physical and chemical makeup of your son's brain, not just his behavior. You see, Gary—"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember your spiel about his brain scans at the trial, nearly put me to sleep."

"You know, speaking of the trial, there's something I often wondered. Why didn't you speak on your own defense? I never heard your side. As far as I know, no one did."

"I wanted to. Man, I wanted to, so I could explain myself. My lawyer advised against it."

"How come?"

"Because there were holes in my story, big, gaping holes, and the reason they exist is because I can't explain them. He said if I told my story, I'd be shot down in cross-examination and lose my credibility with the jury."

"Well, there's no jury here. I'm not going to judge your credibility. In fact, I might be able to help you fill in the holes of your story. I just hope you can help me understand because I believe the holes I see in the story are not the same. So, Mr. Bell, can you please explain to me, in your own words, what happened?"

The man looked out the window as he thought about it. Then he sighed. "Alright. Well, it all started one night when I came home late for work."

"What were you doing?"

"That's none of your business. I was working later than usual, and I admit I had a drink or two to unwind after such a hard day. It was about 2:00 when I came home, and I heard crying. My first thought it was Sandra, like she believed I was cheating on her or something stupid like that. But as I came to our bedroom, I realized the crying was coming from upstairs. So I went up to Gary's room, and I saw him sitting up in bed bawling with his hands covering his eyes. And I don't mean they were just hiding his face like he was playing peekaboo. I mean the heels of his hands were pressed against his eyeballs.

"I came up to his bed and said, 'Son, what's the matter?'

"'They won't go away,' he said. 'They won't let me sleep.'

"And I said, 'What?'

"And he said, 'The lights!' Now, it was pitch black in his room. He didn't have any nightlights on or nothing. So I said, 'What lights?'

"And he said, 'They're everywhere! Red lights, yellow lights, purple lights, green lights, blue lights, and they're all so bright and flashy and noisy!" It sounded like he was in the middle of Vegas. I didn't think he was lying. I really didn't know what to do. I pulled his shutters closed, told him it was a dream, and asked him to lie back down and try to go to sleep. It didn't work. He didn't sleep for days. He said the lights kept getting brighter, and he was also starting to hear voices and other noises that made sleep even harder.

"It was just so hard seeing him like that, knowing he had a problem but not being able to do a thing about it. And it was so weird. You know, kids at that age become afraid of the dark, but my kid was afraid of the light. My kid would give anything for the dark."

* * *

"Well, that was your power, wasn't it, Gary?" Rachel asked.

Gary nodded, "Yeah, but I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know how to use them or how to translate them into videos. I mean, I always could see them, except that time I visited my aunt and uncle, but it was just real bad, so bright and loud. It just looked like a bunch of nonsense to me."

"So how did you figure it out?" Nina asked.

"I'm getting to that. After about five days of this, my parents took me to a doctor, but it wasn't Dr. Mishra. It was a special doctor that gave me a bunch of weird tests and talked to me a lot, but he didn't tell me what the lights were or how to make them stop."

* * *

"I still remember the day," Alex said. "The shrink sat me and Sandra down. He said, 'Well, given what you've described to us about your son's behavior, we evaluated him using the CARS scale. According to our findings, he scored a thirty-two.'

"We had no idea what that meant. 'Well, is that good or bad?' Sandra asked. 'What does that mean?'

"'Is that thirty-two out of a hundred?' I asked, 'because that sounds like he failed.'

"'I should explain,' the shrink said. 'CARS stands for Childhood Autism Rating Scale. We believe your son is autistic.'

"We both felt like we had the wind knocked out of us. We argued that Gary could talk and he didn't flap his hands, but he explained that our son was very high-functioning. He told us that this was a lifelong problem Gary would have, that there's no cure, no treatment. He was just going to be like this, and there was nothing we could do. But this didn't answer the problem that we came here for in the first place. So I asked about those lights he could see. He said that Gary lived in his own world, and his imagination would always be in overdrive, and that was something else that we couldn't control. 'So, we'll never be able to stop it?' I asked. 'He's not ever gonna sleep again?'

"'Well,' he said, 'I suppose it is possible that random neurons are firing in his brain. That goes beyond my expertise, however. Now, I have a colleague who might be able to help. He can scan your son's brain, figure out what's going on, perhaps prescribe some medicine for it.' He gave us his card. Sandra looked hopeful, but I knew that this guy was just gonna tell us the same thing, that there was nothing we can do."

* * *

"I still couldn't sleep, and I was thirsty," Gary explained. "So I came downstairs for a cup of water. I heard Mom and Dad talking. Dad said, 'I think we should just start over again.'

"Mom said, 'Get a second opinion. I agree. We should call this neuroscientist he recommended.'

"But then Dad said, 'That's not exactly what I meant.'

"And Mom started to ask what he said, but then she yelled something, and she said, 'How can you be thinking of that now?'"

Gary was very close to tears again. "And Dad said, 'You heard what the shrink said to us. There's nothing we can do. He's not going to change, ever. He'll never be the son we wanted. So I think we should just hand him over to some professionals who know better than we do what to do with him and just start over.'

"And Mom said very loudly, 'No, that's not an option. How can you say that? I'm not gonna do that to my son.' I went back up to my room, and I cried again, but it wasn't because I couldn't sleep."

This started bringing Rachel to tears, and she hated crying.

* * *

"I guess it was a few days later," Alex continued. "I was out late again, and this time I was drinking. I knew I had a little too much, but everything about Gary was weighing heavy on my mind. And then, all the sudden, I got an idea. It was perfect. I mean, I knew I was drunk, but I felt like I was thinking clearer than I ever had in my whole life. I knew there was only one way to break my son out of this Hell, and that was to send him straight to Heaven."

* * *

"So, in the middle of the night," Gary said, "the door opened. My dad was there. He smelled so bad! He just looked at me, and he said, 'Hey, sport. You still awake?' I nodded. 'You still see 'em?' he said. I nodded.

"Then he came up to my bed, and he said, 'I think I know a way to make 'em stop for good. You like that, don't you?' I nodded, but I wasn't sure. 'Now, you need to trust me. This might hurt, but it's gonna be OK. OK? Lie down.' So I lied back down. He tucked me in, pulled the bed sheets and my grandma's quilt up to my chin. And then . . . and then he . . ." Gary started crying uncontrollably again.

"It's alright," Nina told him. "You don't have to say."

"Oh, it was terrible! I never felt more pain, more fear. Everything was so dark. There was no air. I could still see the lights flashing before my eyes, but they looked even more confused. And then I remembered what I learned in school about what to do when you're in trouble like this, and I kept thinking, '911, 911, 911.'

"I thought it was a dream, but I heard a woman's voice say to me, '911, what's your emergency?'

"I tried to tell her, but I couldn't. So, I thought about what I'd tell her. I said in my mind, 'My dad's hurting me! I can't breathe!' And like I learned in school, I thought of all the details: my address, my phone number, my name, my mom's name, my dad's name, I thought about how our house looked like. I don't know how I held on for so long, but in just a few minutes, the ambulance came."

"These doctors put me on a bed with wheels, and they put a glass mask over my face. It felt so good to breathe again. The police pulled my father away from my bed. As the doctors wheeled me over to the ambulance, I saw the police lead my father in handcuffs to their car. That was the last time I ever saw him.

"Mom said I'd never have to worry about him again, but now he's back. He's come back to kill me." He glared at Nina, "Because _you _couldn't push him!"

"I'm sorry, Gary," Nina answered.

"Well, you know what, bud?" Bill said. "He ain't gonna lay a finger on you, alright? If he even tries, he'll have to answer to me first."

"Thank you, Bill," he said quietly.

"I think that goes for all of us," Rachel said.

Everyone came forward and supported Gary, everyone except for Cameron Hicks, who was looking down and thinking.

* * *

"So you see, my mystery is who made that call," Alex explained. "It wasn't Sandra because the ambulance woke her up. None of the neighbors came forward. I know the 911 operator said it was Gary, but that's impossible."

"I find it ironic that you'd say something like that, Mr. Bell," Dr. Rosen responded.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, it might have been my imagination, maybe I was hearing things, but I thought I heard you call your son by a different name a few minutes ago."

"Oh yeah, that. It's his real name, Graham. It took him a little longer to respond to his name, though. When we said it, he thought we were talking about graham crackers, so he'd come down and ask for a snack, even if we just had dinner. So, we started calling him Gary. He responded to that better. I don't think we ever really changed it, though, unless Sandra did. What about it?"

"Well, I was just thinking about your name and what you called him, and I was just putting the pieces together, and I realized something. You share a famous ancestor, don't you? You were trying to preserve an honorable legacy through your son."

"Alright, alright. It's true, my great-great-great-great grandfather invented the telephone. So what? It doesn't mean he could pull a phone out of thin air."

"On the contrary, Mr. Bell, after knowing what I know now, I believe he very well could have. At times, I even wonder if he did."

"I don't get it. What's this got to do with anything?"

"Do you know what those lights were, Mr. Bell?"

"No! Haven't you been listening?"

"I could very well ask you the same question. Listen to this—they were signals. There was a cell phone tower built just a few yards from your house. Gary's brain is more sensitive to the signals bouncing off that tower. When Sandra came to me, I scanned Gary's brain and saw how it was constructed for myself. I advised her to move away from the tower, and that took care of the problem. I also taught Gary some techniques to concentrate on other things before bedtime."

"It was the cell phone tower? Well, how come it affected just him? We were all just as close."

"You know Gary's brain is different from yours. You are what we call neurotypical. Gary's got his problems, yes, but he also has an extraordinary gift." He stood up and looked Alex dead in the eye. "And you nearly destroyed it."

Alex scoffed. "I sense judgment in your voice."

"Oh, there's a reason for that. What you did, Mr. Bell, is inexcusable. If it wasn't for your son's quick thinking and ingenuity and just a little luck, you would have committed first degree murder!"

"The jury didn't see it that way."

"I know. Your lawyer got them to believe that you were a frazzled, beleaguered parent of a disabled child, doling out more sympathy for you than for the true victim. Even when he said anything about Gary, it was that you wanted your son to avoid a life of hardship and pain! You got a reduced sentence, but that doesn't stop the truth. You focused only on Gary's flaws when instead you should have discovered his strengths. You didn't even give him a chance!"

"Can you blame me? How can you talk about strengths when a problem that you can do nothing about stares you in the face?"

"There's always something you can do. Sometimes you have to search and work harder. Sometimes you have to try."

Alex threw his hands in the air and made a very exasperated sigh. "You just don't get it, doc. If you were in my shoes, you'd see it wasn't that easy."

"No, Mr. Bell. _You're _the one who doesn't get it. Do you know that what you said haunts him to this day? Sandra tells me that Gary used to ask her something every day. She told her that her answer will never change, but sometimes he still asks her just before he goes to bed, 'Am I the son you wanted?' You know how he answers her, Mr. Bell? She told me she says, 'You are more.'"

Alex didn't respond. He just stared at Dr. Rosen, searching for something to say.

Dr. Rosen sat down. "I think you should go."

"So, that's it? No chance I can talk to him again?"

"Perhaps another time, but not now. That's ultimately up to him."

So Alex left the office. The other Alphas were standing in front of Gary's office. Bill was blocking the door with his arms crossed. "It's OK, I'm leaving," Alex said. "I depart in peace. I don't want any trouble, alright?" He looked at Nina. "I'm sorry I pushed you, ma'am. I was desperate, you understand."

"I wouldn't really call that a push," Nina answered.

"Yeah." He started heading for the door, but just before leaving, he turned back and faced them. "Please, tell him I'm s—" He stopped and looked down. "Tell him I'd like to see him again someday." Then, he left.

Cameron couldn't take it anymore. He went back to his office to gather his thoughts. He knew he had to talk to Gary.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Around the end of the afternoon, Hicks knocked on Gary's open office door. "Hey, man. Can I come in for a minute?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Gary answered.

Hicks sat down in an empty chair across from him. "How you doing?"

"A little better."

"Alright, good." He looked off for a moment and started drumming his fingers. "Look, I got some things to say, just some observations from an old guy who's, uh, estranged from his kid. You can take 'em or leave 'em."

"OK."

Hicks took a deep breath. "Your father, I don't think he came here to kill you."

"Why else would he come?"

"I don't know, 'cause you're his son."

"Not the son he wanted."

"Look, sometime, he's gonna regret he's ever said those words. But I really think he already does. See, I know you're not very good at reading facial expressions. When he came into this room, he didn't look vengeful or hateful or even angry. He looked a little sad, but mostly, I think, he was proud. You know, whenever he heard your diagnosis, he focused on the negative, like, 'He never do this, he won't say that,' but you went beyond that. I mean, you got this ability no one else has, and you're basically a policeman. You made something of yourself when everyone else thought you'd never amount to anything. That would make any father proud. I mean, if it doesn't, then he's absolutely crazy or a sociopath."

"He's neurotypical. He'd never understand."

"No, he won't. So it's up to you to make him understand. Show him all of the lights."

"Ha! I can't do that. The lights are invisible. Only I can see them, and I can't show them to anybody."

"But you can prove that they're there."

"I don't wanna. I never wanna see him again."

"Yeah, you know what? That's another thing. I think you should see him again, one more time, and tell him . . . you forgive him."

"WHAT?!" Gary jumped up and looked at him in shock.

"Look, just hear me out. It's just something else I noticed. He looked really guilty to me. I think what he did, it's tearing him up instead."

"But he said—"

"Yeah, I know, I heard that! I think he's just telling himself he did the right thing, trying to make himself believe it, but deep down, he's knows the truth."

"How can you forgive someone who tried to kill you?"

"It doesn't mean what he did was right. It doesn't mean you have to pretend like it didn't happen. It doesn't even mean you'll ever have anything to do with him again. It just means . . . you won't hate him for it."

Gary sat back down. "I can't do it. I won't do it!"

"Gary, I'm asking you to do it not just for him, but for you. I know it's trite, but it's true what they say—hating someone is like drinking poison while waiting for him to die."

"No. If I forgive him, I'll become vulnerable, and he'll take advantage of that and kill me. Besides, before you forgive someone, they have to say they're sorry."

"That's not always the case, and he almost did say that he was."

"But he didn't."

Hicks looked down. "No, he didn't. Alright, man. Like I said, it's up to you." He got up and left.

A little later, Dr. Rosen came in. "Alright, Gary, you had a long day. Let me take you home."

"But Mom's gonna—"

"I called her. I think I should talk to her about what happened today. Now, you don't have to worry about it. You don't have to say a word unless you want to." He came closer. "Oh, Gary, I'm so sorry about what happened today."

"She said I never had to worry about him again. I thought he was still in jail."

"Well, she thought you never would. See, when he was released from prison, your mother got something called a restraining order. That means your father couldn't come near you or her, and if he ever tried, he would be sent back to prison, and it would be for a much longer time. But now, you're old enough that you can get your own restraining order against him so you can protect yourself, if that's what you want to do."

"Yes, that is what I want to do. I don't ever want to see him again. I believe he deserves to be in prison, and I want him to come back and try to find me so that he can go back there."

Something about that made Dr. Rosen sad, but he nodded. "Alright. When I talk to your mother, we'll discuss setting that up. She'll probably take you to the court tomorrow so that you can file it yourself. Well, let's go." He started to leave.

"Dr. Rosen?"

Dr. Rosen stopped and turned back. "Yes, Gary?"

"Did you and Agent Sullivan find out why the fire started?"

"Well, we discussed it. I don't think we ever came up with anything concrete. This whole mess with your father got us a little sidetracked, you know." Gary nodded, and he got up to go.

They said nothing on the way home. Dr. Rosen didn't turn on the radio or put the top down. Gary rested his head against the window and almost fell asleep. All this emotion and crying was making him very tired. When they pulled up to his house, Sandra met Gary on the porch. She was crying, and she opened her arms for a hug. Even though he didn't feel like one, Gary let her hug him. "Oh, Gary, I'm so sorry!"

"It's OK, Mom. It's not your fault," he said softly.

"Do you want something to eat? I made some spaghetti."

"I think I just want to go on to bed. I'm very tired."

"OK, baby. Everything's gonna be OK." She kissed his forehead. "I love you, sweetie."

"Goodnight, Mom."

Gary heard Dr. Rosen talk with her as he walked up the stairs. He went to brush his teeth because that's what he always does before going to bed. As he was brushing, he heard something strange in the static. It sounded like scratches. He knew what that meant; Anna was trying to contact him. He flicked his wrist and turned on the translator to decipher her language. "Gary!" a computerized voice said. "Are you alright?"

Gary quickly spat out the toothpaste and engaged his talking-texting program. "I'm fine," he answered. "I'm just tired."

"I'm so sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen. But don't worry, we're taking care of it tonight."

He was opening the drawer to get his pajamas, but he stopped. "I don't understand," he said. "What do you mean it wasn't supposed to happen?"

"Alex was supposed to die in the fire."

He stopped and looked up. "Wait! Red Flag started the fire! Dad was the target?"

"He's not your dad, Gary. Dads love their children. They don't abandon them, and they don't try to kill them."

"How do you know about him?"

"You won't believe how many Alphas faced what you did, Gary. Most of them weren't so lucky, especially if they were also autistic, like us. They were murdered. And the parents get a lot less than they deserve because they make themselves look like the victims. It isn't right, Gary. We're trying to fix an injustice."

"Look, I agree he did wrong, he's a bad person, and he should be in jail, but he doesn't deserve to die!"

Gary could almost hear the angry tone even through the monotonous, cold computer voice. "Think about this, Gary. If you were a neurotypical child and he did what he did to you, he still would be in jail. They might have even given him the death penalty. He wouldn't have had an excuse. But you're 'disabled,' 'a handful,' 'a burden,' so Alex Bell only got five years in prison. He does deserve to die."

Gary quickly flicked his wrist to turn her off, and he ran down the stairs. "DR. ROSEN! DR. ROSEN!"

"What's the matter, Gary?" he asked once he got down.

"I just intercepted a message from Red Flag. Dad was the target of the fire, and they're gonna try and kill him again tonight!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dr. Rosen very quickly called the other Alphas together, and they met in Gary's dining room. He was panicking again, sitting against the wall and rocking. "How'm I gonna find him in time?"

"She didn't say where he was or what they were going to do?" Dr. Rosen asked.

"NO! For the third time, all she said was they're gonna take care of it!"

"Gary, you need to relax," Nina said, in her push voice without really thinking about it.

"HOW CAN I RELAX? HE'S GONNA DIE!"

"Alright, let's think," Bill said. "What do you know about your dad? What kind of places would he go?"

"I don't know! I was only five!"

"Did you ping his cell phone?"

"No, I didn't even get his number."

"What about the license plate on his motorcycle?"

"I didn't see it, OK? I was too busy fearing for my life!"

"Wait, I have an idea," Rachel said. "Gary, you said on that night—and you don't to think very hard about it, I don't wanna upset you—but you said he smelled really bad."

"Yeah."

"Like how?"

"I don't know. I can't describe it."

"Try. Was it like . . . trash or, uh, throw-up?"

"He smelled like . . . Santa."

Hicks laughed rather loudly.

"It's not funny!" Gary yelled. "I never liked sitting on Santa's lap at Christmas in the mall because he always smelled bad. Dad had that same smell, but it was much stronger. I could smell him right when he came in the door."

"That probably means he was drinking," Rachel nodded.

"Yes," Dr. Rosen nodded. "He admitted to me he was drunk."

"I didn't know that," Gary said. "He wasn't walking funny or talking funny."

"But he was thinking funny."

"And after a day like today, he probably hit the bar pretty hard," Bill said.

"Or a strip club," Sandra added bitterly.

"Gary, search the security cameras for every bar in town. They're very heavily monitored."

So Gary flicked his wrist as he scanned through the security cameras. Everybody was silent and still for about five minutes, so it was a huge shock when Gary suddenly yelled, "THERE HE IS! THERE HE IS!"

Everybody gathered around him. "You got him?" Dr. Rosen asked.

"He's surrounded by glasses, and he's got his head down on the bar. That's his motorcycle jacket!"

"What bar is it?"

He checked around. "I see a neon sign in the window. It's backwards, of course, and in cursive. It says . . . Jerry's!"

"That's on the edge of town," Bill said.

"Let's go," Dr. Rosen said, and everyone got out to the van.

"Gary," Sandra said taking her son's arm, "are you sure about this? You know what he did."

"I have to do this, Mom. He was wrong, but I don't think he should die."

"But as long as he's alive, he can hurt you."

"I'm gonna get a restraining order so he can't come near me."

"That may not be enough, Gary."

"I'm just not gonna let Red Flag kill them. I don't wanna be on that level. Mom, I know what I'm doing."

"Alright. Well, stay safe."

"I will, Mom. I love you." He quickly left.

Everyone piled into the van, and Bill drove as fast as he could. "Times like this, I really wish we had a siren."

Gary kept his eye on his father. "He's still sleeping at the bar," he answered as Dr. Rosen asked him for a progress report.

"That must be some pretty hard liquor, put him out that fast," Bill said.

"It's still pretty odd, isn't it?" Nina asked. "Don't bartenders throw people out when they start to sleep? You know, 'you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here'?"

"You have a point," Dr. Rosen said. "Now, is there any other suspicious activity going on?"

Gary flipped through the other security camera feeds. "I see some guys wearing black outside skulking around the propane tanks."

"They must be from Red Flag. Cameron, you go after them. Nina, you get everyone out of the bar. It shouldn't be difficult; their inhibitions are already down. We'll work from there." He pulled up to the back. Hicks and Nina both got out.

The moment Nina walked in the door, she heard whistles and cat calls. There was a whole group of men at a booth next to the door. "Hey, baby!" one particularly inebriated man sitting there slurred. "What you doin' toni—?"

"STOP IT!" The bar seemed to get so much quieter as the guy looked into her eyes. She looked into his and said in her push voice, "Get out of here, now. Take a cab, and go home."

Dr. Rosen was right; this wasn't going to be hard. Even though she was making eye contact with that one man, everyone at the booth got up with one accord and walked out the door. She quickly gave the same instruction to every person she saw, in the booths, by the pool table, standing at the jukebox, and they all left without a fuss. Then the bartender came in from the back. "Everything alright, ma'am?"

"You need to leave right away," she said in her push voice to him.

But the man grinned, and his eyes suddenly looked hazy. "I don't think so," he replied.

Meanwhile, Hicks was in a long chase with the guys outside. The others watched him and the other patrons leaving the bar. "Where's Nina?" Rachel asked.

Gary looked at the security camera feed. "Well, now she's sleeping at the bar!"

"Nina!" Bill groaned.

"But she's not surrounded by bottles or glasses like Dad is."

"So she's not drunk," Dr. Rosen said. "Something in the bar is lulling them aslee—"

He was interrupted as one of the drunk guys knocked on the window. "Hey, is this a taxi? I need to get home."

"NO!" Gary shouted.

"Hang on." Rachel cracked open the window and sniffed. She winced, but then she smelled again. "Sir, have you been taking any other drugs while you were drinking?"

"Uh-uhh!" he replied shaking his head. "Not like it's any of your business. You're not a cop, are you?"

"No, and I'm not gonna get you in trouble, I promise. It's just that, under the alcohol, I smell poppies. Do you feel abnormally tired?"

"You know, come to think of it, I am. After the second beer, I was beat. But it has been a long day."

"You think maybe someone slipped something in your drink?"

"I bet it was that bartender. He said Jerry's sick today. Weird guy, he kept staring at us and talking funny."

"Thank you." She closed the window. "Did you hear that, Dr. Rosen?"

"The bartender's in on it," Dr. Rosen nodded. "Bill?"

"Got it," he answered as he got out of the car. He stormed into the bar and yelled, "FBI! HANDS IN THE AIR!"

Gary watched the security camera feed and saw the bartender approaching Bill, and as he got closer, Bill sat down and let go of his gun. "No. Hang on, Bill!" He opened the door.

"Gary, what are you doing?" Dr. Rosen asked.

"I got his back!" He ran into the bar and cringed as he was hit by all the smells of alcohol, vomit, and urine.

"Hey, get out!" the bartender yelled. "No one under twenty-one!"

"Get away from my friend and my dad!" Gary said threateningly. Alex moved a little and started to lift up his head.

"Oh, you're Anna's boy? Hey, I've been in your shoes. I know what it's like. I already took care of mine. You don't have to protect him."

"Yeah, I do. He's my dad."

"Not after what he did to you. Don't worry, we're being incredibly humane, showing him a lot more mercy than he deserves. Everybody wants to die in their sleep. He won't feel a thing." He came closer, and his eyes got cloudy. "What is it?" his voice said in an echo. "You wanna die with him?"

"You can't push me."

"This isn't pushing. I'm cranking up your melatonin, the chemical that makes you sleep."

He started thinking about earlier that day, when he made that electricity that shocked his dad. How did he do that? He noticed the same kind of signal out of the corner of his eye. "I can't sleep. The lights are keeping me up."

"I can turn them down."

"Not those lights. These lights!" He touched the signal, and electricity shot out of his hand and hit the bartended. Gary looked toward the signal and understood. "Bill!" he said shaking his friend. "Your taser!"

"Huh? Oh." Bill got up, got out his stun gun, and tased the bartender until he fell down unconscious. "Thanks, man."

"Come on, we gotta get him out of here."

"I don't know, Gary. I still feel pretty groggy. I'm not sure if I can call on the adrenaline."

"Those guys can blow up the propane tanks any minute! Hicks hasn't caught 'em yet! We gotta go!"

"Gary, is that you?" Alex said sleepily.

"Yeah. Come on, Bill, this really calls for a fight-or-flight response."

"Alright, I'll try," Bill said.

Alex smiled. "You came for me."

Gary didn't answer him. "Nina, wake up. We gotta get out of here." He shook her until she raised her head, and he took her hand and led her out.

They eventually managed to get out. Hicks said the other guys got away, but they never found any devices around the propane tanks. Dr. Rosen called Agent Sullivan who arrested the bartender and sent him to Binghamton. The rest of them drove back to the office. Dr. Rosen monitored Alex through the night. He noted that Alex had an abnormally high, almost toxic amount of melatonin in his brain and wondered if the guys around the propane tanks were a ruse or perhaps Plan B.

In the morning, Alex woke up, and as he got sober, Dr. Rosen explained everything that happened. He offered to get Alex into witness protection, and he agreed. Before he left, Alex made sure he thanked everyone on the team for saving his life. Then, he stopped by Gary's office. Gary was sitting at his desk typing on his laptop.

"Well, son, this is it," Alex said. "I'm fleeing the country. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't know if I'll ever see you again." Gary didn't turn around. "I'm hoping to go to Europe, maybe England. Who knows? Maybe next time you see me, I'll have a new accent!" He laughed.

Gary swiveled his chair. "This doesn't change anything. I haven't forgiven you. I never want to see you again. I just . . . didn't think you should die." He turned back around.

"Well, that shows that your mother taught you mercy, because I deserve it. That's good, Gary."

Gary did not turn back.

Alex took a deep breath. "I was wrong."

Gary still didn't turn around, but he stopped typing.

"Your shrink, or whatever he is, is completely right. I focused on all your problems, your faults, and I missed something special. You saved my life with it. I mean, I'm in your debt, Gary. I never should've done it. I never should've . . . tried to kill you. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Gary turned around again. "Am I the son you wanted?"

Alex looked into Gary's face for a moment, that sincerity, but then he turned away, balled up his fists, and pounded the wall. "You had to ask me that?!" He breathed deeply, tried to say the word that Sandra supposedly said, "more," but the word just wouldn't come out. "I'd be lying if I said yes."

"Goodbye, Alex," Gary said coldly as he turned back around.

Alex turned back and quickly sat next to Gary. "But that shouldn't matter! Because you are my son. You're mine. And I shouldn't have given up on you." But Gary didn't seem to believe him. He didn't stop working. Alex sighed. "I'm glad Dr. Rosen helped you. He did so much more than teach you how to sleep again. He turned you into someone amazing. You know, he told me what you can do. What's it like?"

"I already told you."

"No, show me. Is there any way you can?"

Gary stopped, turned toward him again, and held out his hand. "Let me see your phone."

"I don't know if that's gonna do any good, Gary. I'm gonna have to change my number."

"That doesn't matter. Give it to me."

Alex reached into his pocket, grabbed his cell phone, and handed it to Gary. Gary dialed his phone number into it and clicked send. A brilliant blue beam of light emitted from the phone, connected with Gary's cell phone across the room, and made it ring. "Now, whenever you call me, I'll see this light and know it's you," he explained.

"What does it look like?"

"It's blue."

"I like blue, like your eyes. So, if you see this signal and know it's me, will you answer?"

Gary thought for a moment. He still wasn't sure if his father really meant everything he was saying, but he was trying, and the fact that he was beginning to appreciate his ability meant something. "I might."

"Does that mean you forgiven me?"

"I have to think about it."

Alex nodded. "I'll take it, kid. You know, it's a good thing I continued our family legacy in you. I think you do our namesake proud."

"Yeah, I know."

"What do you mean?"

Gary looked at him for a moment and gave him a small smile. "How else do you think he invented the telephone?"

* * *

(As far as I can tell, there's nothing in the submission that says we can't do PSAs. If you don't want to read it, you can end here.)

"Hi, I'm Gary Bell."

"And I'm Dr. Lee Rosen."

"Unfortunately, my situation is far too common. Many people with disabilities, especially autistic people, are killed by people they trust, such as parents or caregivers. Sadly, the victims lives, not are deaths, are often portrayed as the real tragedies."

"Their deaths could have been prevented with more understanding, acceptance, patience, and love. Instead of dwelling on the problems and weaknesses, find the strengths and benefits. I believe no matter how severe the condition, they do exist. You don't have to be an Alpha to have them."

"We also ask that you honor the victims' memory and take a stand against violence. Please visit the Autism Self-Advocacy Network at for more information. Our lives have value. Thanks."


End file.
